Of Bards and Beggars
by Bard of Night
Summary: Based on a forgotten realms D20 campaign setting chara greated by ...


Nightfall had come like an executioner's axe; swift and relentless. The sky held black over the desert city of Ostar'Mainka, elven tongue for the "Trading Town", and seemed to suck the innocence of day from the very grounds which supported the town. The few significant buildings that still stood were rundown, shabby, wood and clay constructions. Palisade walls stood along the perimeter, in case wandering marauders should besiege the city. The gates to the north and south of the city were guarded by more than an ample supply of the High King's men. These warriors were sworn to protect the city from the terrors outside the city's walls with one's life. However noble the cause might seem, it was in vain, for the evils that dwelled from within the town's own walls were more horrible than one could ever conceive.  
  
Elendir fastened his long, black, flowing cloak and muttered to himself, "Burn by day, freeze by night! Blast these lands to the underworld!" His lute and long sword had encumbered him to the point of fatigue, and the weather change wasn't helping his spirits. He walked on through the deserted cobblestone streets of the town, looking for a place of food and lodging. The lone Equiloth trees stood like lonesome people in the shade of night; their needles sharp and pointed, showing their bitter hatred for the living, though by day they radiate a soft green glow, full of radiance and life. A beggar, dressed in soiled, threadbare rags, passed Elendir by, hands at the ready to snatch anything the half-elven bard might offer. Elendir knew the pain and despair of being an outcast and a beggar.  
  
Thinking back to his childhood he remembered the only words he could remember his father saying. "He may not stay here! He is not of pure descent. He is a disgrace to his ancestry, and to me! Bring him to the city of man where he will be taken care of!" Elendir hated his father for what he had done. As Elendir thought on, he remembered nothing of the way his father physically looked, other than a small scar under his left eye from combat flaw. Elendir had been exiled by the elves for not being of pure descent, and hated by the humans for not being completely man. He was a beggar, and an outcast because of his father's pride.  
  
Elendir passed the beggar by. He knew well the burdens a street dweller carries, but he also knew that to offer the man nothing in the stead of food or coinage was a far more merciful gesture; a beggar's life is one of sorrow, and a must be changed lest he die empty and alone in a world full of hate and blindness. Elendir had to learn that lesson because of his father's pride, and for that, the bard resented his father.  
  
Fifty paces from where Elendir stood, he read off of a large oaken sign, "Grimbeard's Inn & Tavern." With little hesitation, he strode toward the inn. The wind blew cold tonight, and he would be grateful for even a moment of heat. Elendir was still about twenty paces away, and already he could hear yelling, laughing, and general merrymaking going on inside the tavern. Pleasant light shone out through the dirty, smoke stained windows. Perhaps this would be an enjoyable part of an otherwise morbid journey, thought the bard.  
  
The door was much larger than he had anticipated. The massive oak barrier was designed to allow massive barbaric men, and other larger races through. Elendir tensed at the idea of being rejected from yet another establishment due to his demi-race. The door opened easily.  
  
At the exact instant Elendir passed the warped, wooden doorway and entered the inn, he was succumbed by the powerful aroma of ale, overdue food, cheap perfume, and worst of all, the sweet, yet nauseating stench of pipe weed. Large men, humans, fumbled as they walked, and growled when they talked. A few more civilized men sat at the tables, while the shorter, but equally intelligent, gnomish folk sat at a small round table. A human serving wench, wearing a most revealing tunic and skirt, knocked Elendir's arm as she passed, trying to serve the horde of men in the bar, whom by the way, had the manners of dirty pigs. Belches reverberated constantly within the dirty walls, and Elendir thought that he would certainly fall ill before the night was through. Shifting the weight of his heavy traveling backpack to his other shoulder, he unfastened his long cloak, and made his way over to a small, short table in a dark and secluded corner of the bar. The fatigue from the journey had indefinitely taken its toll on Elendir. As he made his way across the bar floor, he couldn't feel anything except for the numbing in his still frozen hands. The only thing Elendir seemed to be fully aware of were the faces of the men sitting around their tables. He stared at the men who would never have to beg, or run away, or fight for a scrap of food. These were the men that relished the first rays of sunlight, the new day. These were the men that had a reason to live. Silent tears trickled down the face of the half-elf, as he lost himself in deep morbidity. He came to the lonesome table, and seated himself. He took the cumbersome sack from his shoulders and placed it at his feet. His sword still clung to his side as he unstrapped the lute and laid it across the hard wood of the table.  
  
"What may I getcha suh?" asked a different serving wench who seemed to come out of nowhere. This girl however, seemed to be more reformed, and was clothed in a more pertinent gown. The tips of her long, black hair obscured her eyes. She looked no more than fifteen or sixteen, and already she was forced to take such a lowly occupation.  
  
"Merely a glass of fruit wine will do," replied the bard.  
  
"Aye suh, commin right up tis!" said the girl, as she departed to fetch the order.  
  
Elendir sat for a moment longer when suddenly the oaken doors of the inn burst open. The fair and angled faces of elves peaked inside, and the tavern suddenly grew quiet. The elves were of the Royal Guard of Etreenor; capital city to the elven people. Hatred coursed through Elendir's veins at the sight of these elves, whom very well could've been the same ones that had ridiculed the bard in years past. Without much thought, Elendir turned his head looked directly into the eyes of the elven men, and the one man whom they all seemed to be guarding.  
  
"Make way, for the First Knight of Etreenor, and personal friend to the king himself stands before you!" ordered one of the elven guards, and Elendir's heart performed a double beat. The group of the elves was composed of four heavily armed guards, and the First Knight. They all were dressed in shining scale-mail armor which turned the tarnished golden glow of the lanterns into rays of beautiful silver light. Each elf carried a long sword, and a shield with the royal insignia emblazoned upon it, except for the First Knight who carried a sword long enough to easily span the height of an average elf. Five serving maidens came to accommodate the elves, and showed them to a large round table. The merrymaking continued and soon the tavern was alive with the noise and chatter again. Elendir however, just sat and examined the faces of the elves, noting the similarities between them and himself. He again became lost in thought, but still kept an eye on the elves. The serving maiden disrupted his thinking.  
  
"Here ya go suh! Fresh fruit wine for the drinkin'!" exclaimed the same girl. She seemed to notice Elendir gazing at the elves. "Interesting folk this night wouldn't ya agree?" asked the girl. Elendir sat quiet a moment longer.  
  
"Oh pardon good miss, I hardly noticed you. Yes quite interesting people this night. How much will it be for the drink?" replied Elendir somberly.  
  
"That'll cost yah five silver pieces suh, and I do suggest yah pay right up, unless yah wants Bruno to break your legs in." responded the girl with an innocent smile. Elendir took out a leather pouch, removed five silver pieces from its contents, and handed the coins over to the girl. She curtseyed and left the bard to himself. Elendir took a swig of his drink, and gazed back at the elves, but this time they seemed to be watching him. Before Elendir could look away, one of them rose up, and walked his way. It was the First Knight.  
  
"Bard! Play us a merry song will you? I will pay you generously if you will."said the First Knight. The matured face of the elf was drawn in a smile as Elendir examined it. The bard wanted to curse, and scream, and tell the elf to go away. He wanted to slip his blade into the elf's heart and watch the warmth fade to the blackness of his soul, but he could not. Elendir looked up, and met the elf's face, but the words the bard sought were lost. A new thought coursed through his mind. A scar stretched from cheek to nose under the left eye of the elf. The First Knight was, without a doubt in Elendir's mind, Elendir's father.  
  
"Well?" queried the elf.  
  
"Well what?" was the response of the shocked bard.  
  
"Will one strum a song for us?" responded the elf. A pause followed.  
  
"I don't see the harm in a few songs," responded the bard in a hushed tone. Elendir lifted the lute which seemed twice its normal weight, and the men, elves, and short men of the tavern applauded fervently. Elendir placed his long, slender fingers on the dark finger board, and brought his other hand to the strings. The lute seemed to play itself, for Elendir was still too stunned to realize what he was doing. The songs that came from the small instrument filled the room, and caused the men to be humble and quiet with its placid, yet beautiful sound. When the music had ended, the wicks of the many candles had burn to their bases, and only a few lanterns illuminated the room.  
  
"That was simply amazing music bard," said the First Knight to Elendir, and the elf's claim was reinforced by the backing grunts and mumbles from the other folk in the tavern. "Would five hundred gold suit you?" asked the elf. Silence ensued.  
  
"No. I dare not take any money. I don't cherish wealth." replied the bard.  
  
"Well then what can I get you? Your talents are exemplary bard!" exclaimed the First Knight. Again, silence followed. Elendir again wanted to scream and fight. To curse at this elf who had come out of nowhere without a moments notice. He couldn't believe this was all happening.  
  
"I... I wish I had known my father," replied the half-elf, whom now had tears caressing his angled cheeks. "I wish I was not an outcast from my own family. I wish I had a chance in this world."  
  
The First Knight seemed troubled, and didn't respond at first. "I'm sorry bard, but I'm afraid I cannot help you there," said the elf in a solemn voice.  
  
"Well I must be off. Keep your gold, and serve your nation and race well First Knight. I fare thee well." said Elendir at last, as he picked up his heavy backpack, and lute, and made his way toward the door.  
  
"Wait! Please before you leave may I have your name?" asked the First Knight, shouting over the heads of those sitting in the tavern, whom by now had gone back to their loud activities.  
  
"Elendir. My name is Elendir. My father named me." answered the half-elf as he walked away. The road that night seemed somewhat less barren for the half-elf. Perhaps he had settled some personal score in his mind. Perhaps he had finally beaten the wicked game he played over and over in his thoughts and dreams. But perhaps, the game had just begun. 


End file.
